Fate
by Captain Hilts
Summary: Through the haze of confusion, Desmond struggles to come to grips with a new situation. Unfortunately, whom he meets in this strange state is not someone he wanted to ever see again. Oneshot. Spoilers for 6x10.


**Author's Note: just a quick little oneshot into Desmond's thoughts and experiences...we have yet to see what happens to him, but I can only hope it goes as well as this... And that's saying something, haha. Enjoy!**

His first thought was _why?_ What had he done to warrant such treatment? His mind felt as if it were cluttered with cobwebs, thickly obscuring his thoughts; his limbs were like lead and tingled unpleasantly as he managed to flex his fingers. Voices sounded, far off and distant. There was one sound he recognized, however…

"Desmond? Can you hear me?"

A woman was saying his name. He forced his eyes open, seeing only colorful blurs of red and tints of blue. Shadows pressed in around him, but he saw the outline of the woman.

"…Penny?" he rasped.

Voices murmured yet again and he cringed, forcing his body to move. Strong hands grabbed him under each arm and hauled him to his feet.

"Penny…!"

Fear had gripped him now by the fact she hadn't answered him. The voices were louder though the haze that encompassed his thoughts and the colors suddenly swirled into recognizable shapes.

"This way-get him up here!"

The hands grasped him tighter, hauling him along. It was as if he were caught in a horrible dream, one he had no control of; one in which he couldn't' even control his own movement. The world darkened around him and a cool rush of air pressed against his face. He could smell the familiar saltiness of the ocean and the earthy odor of damp soil. The woman said something again and they were moving. The 'fog' had nearly lifted from his brain; he could hear the rapid chatter of insects and the rustling of leaves. His feet suddenly gave out beneath him and he fell to the ground. Through bleary eyes, Desmond Hume gazed into the calm water below.

He was only mildly surprised at the fact he couldn't recognize his own reflection. Instead, he saw someone else staring back at him- a man in the water, one who looked strangely familiar.

"Get him up!" the woman demanded.

Desmond grunted slightly as rough hands pulled him back to his feet. Who was the man he saw in his reflection? His head lolled back and he could see the moon, just visible through the screen of leaves. It felt –somehow- as though he had been here before…

And then it all came rushing back.

A wave of intense fear and rage welled up inside him, though his body was unable to properly respond. All he could muster was a yank of his arm.

"No," he moaned, "No!"

Desmond allowed the anger to fuel his actions, struggling as hard as he could in his current state. Abruptly, he could make out his surroundings; his mind was nearly clear. He gnashed his teeth, muscles burning with newfound strength as he moved.

"No!!"

His throat ached from shouting and he struggled again, hearing his shoes scrape against the wooden planks below.

"Desmond, calm down. Take it easy, please-"

"No! I can't…I can't be…"

He forced himself to speak, to move, to think. With a final, desperate pull, Desmond broke free from the grasp of his captors, falling to his knees. His fingers dug into hot, moist soil.

He was back on the Island.

"No!"

The very thought was enough to make him nauseous. Several people quickly surrounded him and heaved him once again to his feet. But Desmond was ready for them this time. Whatever had inhibited was now almost gone. He thrashed violently, shouting and cursing. He had spent three years of his life making sure he would never again find this place, making sure his wife and his child would never have to go anywhere near it…

The men hauled him into the nearest building. It was dark inside and he couldn't see anything save for a small chair in the center of the room. Desmond fought his captors and cursed them again, flailing, kicking his legs, but they managed to shove him into the chair. His arms were yanked painfully behind him and coarse rope was wrapped tight around his wrists, then his ankles.

"What are you doing?!" he demanded, "Why am I here?!"

"Please," said the woman's voice, "Calm down. I don't want to hurt you, Desmond."

The ropes pulled taught against his limbs and he growled, yanking at them. Briefly, the chair jumped from the floor and tottered as it hit solid ground.

"Then let me go!" Desmond bellowed, "Get me out of here!!"

For some reason, he could tell the woman-whoever she was- did not want to see him in this position. He could sense the shadows moving away; footsteps thudded for the doorway, where leaves flashed with moonlight outside.

"What the bloody hell, is happening?!" Desmond roared.

"…I'm sorry," the woman told him.

She was leaving. He shouted after her desperately, feeling his muscles straining against the ropes, angry tears stinging behind his eyes. The door slammed closed and there came the sliding of a lock. Desmond was alone.

Breathing raggedly, he glanced around at the confines of his prison. Fear, rage and desperation all weighed down on him, so much his chest nearly hurt from the realization.

"Let me out of here!! LET ME OUT OF HERE!!"

The chair groaned as he pulled at the restraints; sweat dripped from his nose and droplets fell to the dusty floor. He threw his head back and shouted again.

Desmond screamed until his head ached from the strain and his throat burned. His wrists were so chapped from pulling they bled. Sunlight was beginning to filter through the cracks in the ceiling when he finally decided to speak again.

"Let me go," he nearly sobbed. Anger gave him the strength to shout his next thought. "I'm not supposed to be here!!"

The door suddenly rattled and Desmond turned sharply to face it, panting. Slicks of damp hair fell into his eyes. A burst of sunlight poured into the room and he squinted from the glare. A man started forward as the door snapped closed behind him. Desmond could only stare in both horror and fury.

"_You_," he spat through gritted teeth.

Charles Widmore walked forward, a slight smirk curving his lips. Desmond strained against the ropes, wanting nothing more to be free…

"Yes. It is me, Desmond," Widmore replied, with such nonchalance it made Desmond's blood boil.

"Why? Why am I here? I told Eloise Hawking I wasn't coming back! Why am I _here_?!" he screamed.

Widmore's smirk fell into a scowl. He bent forward so that his face was inches from Desmond's, grabbing a fistful of his hair and painfully shaking him.

"Because, _boy_," he hissed, "The Island isn't finished with you yet."

L O S T


End file.
